Tobacco and Rosewater
by Kitty.M.Smith
Summary: Sidheag and Niall are soon to be back in Scotland. Sidheag is in the process of sending off a letter to her gramps when the last battle before they leave proves fatal.


**I adore the Parasol Protectorate and both companion series and decided this was in due order. Sidheag is probably my favorite character along with Professor Lyall, so this is positively necessary.**

 **P.S- If you haven't read The Finishing School, that's where any knowledge about Niall's looks and Sidheag and his previous interactions come from.**

 **P.P.S - I didn't know this myself but for anyone who might be wondering, Sidheag is pronounced SHEE-ack, or Sid-ek. (I personally use the latter).**

 **Parasol Protectorate: The lovely incurable curmudgeon Gail Carriger.**

 **Story: My own thing, do not repost or otherwise.**

* * *

Another three months, another letter.

Sidheag added the final details, the last few lines that dropped into a pathetic begging tone. Not quite groveling, but there was a thin line to be crossed. She finished it off with what most would call an uncharacteristically feminine signature and folded the piece of parchment in thirds. Niall entered as she was sliding it into an envelope and writing the sender and return address. He began rifling about his dresser, fire red hair sticking around like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. He was practically naked, with only a jacket wrapped around his waist; and the jacket only covered his backside, his front was fully exposed.

Sidheag realized it was actually one of her jackets, but didn't say anything. He went on from his drawers to her armoire, flinging open the doors and looking around unhappily. Sidheag rolled her eyes and went back to the letter, finishing the addresses and sealing it shut. She heard a frustrated bang as Niall shut the drawers within her armoire and looked around the room, hands on both hips.

"Sidheag, have you seen my hat?" He asked.

"It's on your head, Niall." She said without looking back.

She could sense him stop and then heard him smack his forehead, a small smile gracing her lips.

"Of course. Of course it's on my head. It's always on my head."

"Almost always." She swung her legs around on the bench she used as a desk chair and smiled up at him gently. "You didna last morning because you were tired."

"I was?" The captain furrowed his brow, running fingers through the side of his hair so that it settled back. It was never quite tamed - it was endemic to werewolves to be a little bit scruffy at all times - but it was part of the charm that had made the girls of Madam Gerdalines School For Young Ladies of Quality swoon.

"Dead tired. I dinnae think you even heard me ask if you wanted tea before ye were out like a light. I closed the curtains, cleaned some bandages, and went tae bed not long after ye." Sidheag stood as she spoke and strode over, running her own fingers through her husband's insufferable but attractive red locks and kissing him on the nose. "Poor lamb."

Niall smiled. His cheeks were rosy as per the usual, making him look especially bright and joyful. They were an interesting contrast, the captain and Sidheag. Her hair was the color of mahogany in need of a good polish, and her skin was often more rough than soft and scarred in many places from the 20 years she'd spent serving as a nurse in India. Her eyes were tawny and still held some rambunctious brightness stored in her youth and stoked by her husband, but she was otherwise a rather dull pallet in comparison to the fire-haired, blue eyed and rosy cheeked gentleman before her.

Niall patted Sidheag's hands and gave a brief half nuzzle, half kiss to the side of her face. It was rather wolfish of him. He then went on to get dressed, turning his back to her and tossing the jacket to their bed before grabbing proper clothes from his dresser. Sidheag quietly admired the view of his backside before it was covered by pants. She glanced over at the letter and then went on to ridding herself of her house robe and putting on a proper lady's attire. Or as proper Sidheag would get.

This meant an out-of-season day dress. It had a black swooping ribbon of ruffles at the bottom, which acted as a border between the bottom of simple green and the top of blue, red, and medium green plaid. There was a black sash around the middle that tied into a bow at the back, two decorative black bows in the front, and then each sleeve ended at the elbow and was tied to give a ruffled appearance to the ends by a black ribbon. Sidheag had altered it herself to give it a square neckline more suited to the times, as well as trimming it where need be so it didn't fit over as many petticoats.

In reality the thing was _years_ out of style, but she didn't care.

She turned around to find Niall buttoning up his waistcoat, cravat hanging untied around his neck. When he was done buttoning he looked over and wordlessly buttoned up the back of her dress and righted the sash. He touched the bow he'd done to make sure it was right, and then rested his hands on her hips. Sidheag chuckled as he slipped said hands forward to be clasped over her corseted stomach and rest his chin on her shoulder.

Together they were facing the body mirror, contrasting nicely. Niall nuzzled his face into Sidheag's neck and kissed it, drawing a soft giggle from her. He drew her to him and kissed her neck again through her long, loose hair that he began twirling around his fingers. "How are you, darling?"

"Fine." She said. She saw him glance at her desk in the mirror.

"Ah. May already?"

Sidheag nodded. "Aye."

Niall breathed deeply and then nuzzled his face into her neck again. His lips brushed her skin as he spoke, "I'll pray he says something this round, darling."

Sidheag sighed and leaned her head back, threading her fingers through his hair, knocking the top hat fastened under his chin like a bonnet back so it hung off his chin. He never wore a normal top hat. It was a bit odd, but she'd never said anything about it. It made him adorable. "You say that every time, Niall."

"And I'll keep saying it, and I'll keep praying, much as I'm damned by the church and probably Him. If I wasn't held here by law I'd get a ship over and ask him myself." He pursed his lips. "You could survive it. I know you could."

Sidheag detected some false confidence but smiled nonetheless. She turned and started braiding her hair as she kissed him. "Our time is almost done. I'll be...nigh on too old but..." She put a hand to his cheek, "It'll give us more time. If he dinnae respond by the time we're shipped back, then we can make him respond."

"It'll be interesting, my love, interesting." He gave a faint smile and kissed her hand. It'd been like this since the beginning. After the night with Sophronia and Soap in the middle of nowhere, when they'd been engaged and Soap had been changed. A year long engagement spent with shy talks and awkward kisses broken by genuine smiles and laughter. Since the wedding and the awkward but nonetheless enjoyable follow up.

She'd always wanted to take the change at some point in her life. Previously she thought that it might be after marriage to some bloke or another for the sake of continuing the line - something she'd never been completely objected too but never gave much thought either. Then when she married Niall she realized there was no way she'd be able to continue the family line without committing adultery, she'd begun to send letters, trying to secure a bite from her great-great-great grandfather in the future, when she was in her thirties, as she was now.

It would be a simple and logical course to take the bite, but of course gramps never responded.

Maybe if he bit her she might at least mostly forgive him for abandoning the pack and her - which she still believed he had, despite his request she join him in England - and then they'd have a good long while to get over all that had happened.

But, again, he'd never responded.

Sidheag shoved the thoughts that were beginning to become more and more depressing to the back of her mind and grabbed the letter, looking over at Niall, who was having a bit of a fight with his cravat. "I'm going off tae mail this."

"It's night. Nothing is running." He wrestled his cravat into a very tie-like position and let it settle.

"I can still drop it in the bin." She grabbed a straw hat with a green ribbon that tied under the chin and a few humble lilies around the band and applied it accordingly. It made no sense to wear considering it was dead night and no one would be about, but she wore it anyhow. She supposed it was because she liked the hat.

"I'll come with you."

"Ye dinnae need bother, lamb. It's just a mile or two; I'll be back innae jiffy."

"Alright. Breakfast will be out by the time you get back." She smiled and turned to go, stopped by his hand grabbing her shoulder and tugging her back. She was twirled around and brought into a lovely kiss that only lasted a second, followed by an even lovelier one that lasted a more suitable five or so. Sidheag's face cracked into a wider-than-average smile.

Niall grinned, pecking the edge of her lips and wiggling his nose briefly. "You still smell like your tobacco. Then again you always smell like your tobacco." He chuckled lightly and pressed his face to her cheek, kissing it. "Cherry wood tobacco and rosewater. Only you could make tobacco smell good again."

Sidheag's smile didn't falter and she kissed the side of his nose, arms wrapped around his neck. "That's the compliment of a lifetime, coming from a werewolf."

"Even if you ate basil you wouldn't be able to make me sneeze. It'd taste good coming off your lips, Sidheag Maccon."

Sidheag felt her cheeks redden at the silly flattery and flicked the back of his head. "Oh really, Niall. I dinnae need the pack seeing me blush like this."

"But it suits you. Guess Madame Gerdaline's knocked something in your stubborn noggin, didn't it?" He winked. Sidheag laughed airily and kissed him on the mouth, staying there a lovely half minute. He righted her hat, which she had not noticed had fallen to the back of her head. She in turn put his top hat at the appropriate angle on his cranium. They parted and inspected each other before giving approving nods and kissing again.

"There you go, love." He said quietly, their faces still rather close. "I'll let you go then. Just thought I'd give you something to think about on your walk."

Sidheag cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. "For luck," and she kissed him again, longer, her lips pressed harder than before, "and for love."

With that she patted his cheek and left him, letter in one hand, hat righted proper on her head, and the other hand casually hanging above her heart, which pounded enthusiastically.

She exited the barracks, waving to Lachlan and Dubh who were loitering around the edges of the wall. It was still early evening, really just enough for the pack to start emerging without their skin tightening. Niall told her standing in the sun as a werewolf was like that; you felt sunburned, your skin stretched and creased around bone and muscle. It was extremely uncomfortable, which is why most werewolves saw about as much sun as vampires, but some still braved it on occasion to see a sunrise or set.

The walk to the post office was only a mile or two. Maybe three if you counted maneuvering the buildings in the nearby town to reach its center where the building was located. For Sidheag to reach the stoop of the post took a little less than an hour; she'd taken her own sweet time getting there. No one could blame her; the night was almost down to 75, which could be considered chilly in India. It was rare to get to enjoy such weather, day or night. She might arrive to breakfast a bit late, but it really didn't matter. She didn't eat as much as the rest of the pack; she could just shuffle off to the kitchens and steal what she liked and get on with it.

She dropped the letter in the bin that would be sent off the next day for shipment to England, sending up a silent prayer that never seemed to be answered that her gramps would bloody write back. Even if it was a refusal, it'd be something to work with. The old curmudgeon could be wheedled at; it just took strategy and patience. Sidheag didn't have much of a the latter, but she was sure she could strain her stores for something this important.

So then she started back, again at her leisurely pace from before.

Halfway home, she could see all was not well.

Outside the barracks was a half of dozen wolves and another dozen human soldiers. Before them was some sort of enemy, clouded in darkness, firing bullets. Sidheag tensed and then started running.

She could see her husband at the head, barking out orders and snapping at the enemy. He was dodging swiftly and snarling. He kicked dust and jumped from the bullets if they came anywhere near him. He was holding back.

A silver bullet glinted in the moonlight.

She ran faster.

Her dress wasn't made for this. Even with the lack of proper petticoats her corset restrained her breathing. Her stays creaked as her chest heaved, forcing every bit of oxygen into her lungs as could be mustered. Her gun was in the barracks, on her desk between the quill and the ink pot. Her eyes flitted back and fourth between the mysterious attackers and her pack; her husband still at the front, half guarding the younger members, half defending again the men across.

It wasn't a big battle, but it was a dangerous one. A silver bullet to a werewolf was twice as deadly as a regular to a human. If it hit any of their major organs, they were good as dead. If it hit anywhere else, she might be able to dig it out in time with her tweezers in the medical bag by the door. If it went straight through it would hurt like burnt bollocks, but they would be good to fight maybe a couple minutes later.

Either way she was no help unarmed.

Puffing, she ran down to her and Nialls room, slinging the bag over her shoulder and gripping the gun. She jiggled it. Empty.

" _Bastards bollocks_ ," she muttered, scrambling around her armoire for ammunition. She was going to fill it that morning before breakfast, but she'd gone and delivered the letter instead. _Stupid, stupid Sidheag._ Her breath hitched as she heard two yelps that were quickly drowned out by the soldiers screaming obscenely. She continued filling the chamber of her gun and dumped the rest of her bullets down her shirt. They fell into her cleavledge and other little notches within her corset, and she was off.

But when she arrived above ground, gun gripped in fist, bag over shoulder and fierce expression on her face, all was quiet.

It made her stop. There was nothing. No yelling, no barking, no snarling or gunshots. Her eyes widened in panick and she picked up her feet again and rounded the corner, stopping once more.

The pack was in a circle. All of them were human but for Lachlan, who stared with his ears down and his tail curled around his legs. Abhainn had a roundish burn mark around his shoulder from a silver bullet.

No one else was hurt.

It took her seconds to figure out who they were circling.

"NIALL!" She screeched, grabbing her skirts and pelting it over to the crowd of sad-faced pack members. They moved, allowing her to skid to a stop and fall to her knees at his body.

His skin was drawn over muscle and bone tightly. Half his mass seemed to have left him. Sidheag sat there on her knees, skirts tangled with the dirt and twigs on the ground. Her gun fell from her hand. It was her husband, alright. His hair was still bright, gorgeous, fire red. His cheeks were determined to stay rosy. His eyes were closed, but she knew under there was sparkling blue.

She shuffled closer, falling halfway and stopping herself with her hand. She reached out, vision already blurry from tears as she touched his skin. It was hauntingly dry; underneath she could feel the cold, lumpy ooze that was his supernatural blood. His old blood, dead long before him but still forced to pump through veins. She gripped his arm, and she gagged.

She'd touched many dead bodies in her years as a nurse. The mortal soldiers, shot or otherwise wounded. The ones that didn't make it, it was her job to take their pulse and feel their face. It was her job to draw the blanket over their face and send the condolence letter back home. It was her job. It was something she was used to. Something she was immune too.

But not this. Not her husband. Not a pack member. Not him.

She didn't want to believe it, though she did. It was right here, staring her in the face. The man she loved no longer his eternal twenty-one, but now slowly decreasing, metamorphosing to his true age. His hair was rapidly turning grey from the roots out. His arm that she still gripped was becoming limper, the skin drier and more tight. His lips were being drawn over his mouth until his teeth became visible where they were wedged into half-decayed gums. It was horrific. Stomach churning. Nauseating.

And yet she stayed watching him decay into nothing but bones and old dark red sludge.

Lachlan slowly let out a long, mournful howl. The men bowed their heads as if in prayer, the two beside Sidheag holding her shoulders especially tight. Her body shook with sobs chained in the bowels of her being. When the howl was finished Nialls body was almost completely decomposed. His skin had been stretched to the breaking point and now laid over what remained of meat and muscle like ripped wrapping paper. Blackish red sludge secreted from the spaces between it and the meat onto the dusty ground, crawling over it like some sort of fungus.

Before she was the witness to any more she was stood by the pack, Lachlan changing and keeping a firm hand on her shoulder as they lead her back.

"I'm sorry you saw that." He said quietly.

She nodded numbly, waiting until they arrived at the barracks to have her cry. That was going to haunt her. Her voice was barely a croak when she said, "what happened?"

Lachlan looked pained himself, but Sidheag couldn't imagine it comparing to hers at the moment. Her bed was going to be empty. Half her room was useless.

"We were fighting. Those men were an anti-supernatural set, came right up and started fighting us. We called in the soldiers when we realized what kind of bullets they had, but we didna stop fighting. They grazed Adriann but he's just fine. But when we were all distracted, lookin' tae see if he was alright, they ... they got Niall. One shot to the head, miss, it was very quick. Practically painless."

Right. _Practically_ painless. His last memory would be the pain. Stinging, shooting, wretched pain. "Dubh was to watch his back."

Dubh had the nerve to sound defensive when he said, "Well I was distracted as much as anyone else, Lady Alpha."

Sidheag found her lip curling and snarled, "It isna your job tae be distracted. It is y-your job tae protect ye alpha!"

"He wasna-" But he stopped. Sidheag didn't have to give him a look; the rest of the pack did it for her. She could sense him shrinking back into himself. Even in the absolute worst conditions Dubh was always the obnoxious idiot. Gramps had told her that. She had learnt that.

And now she had lost her husband of almost twenty three years because of it and her stupid pleasure walk.

She was silent again as the pack gave their own condolences to their lady alpha at the barracks. They had lost Niall too, yes. He'd been their alpha, though he wasn't a true one. He couldn't change anyone, but he could lead, and he led them well. He was a good honest man. Sidheag could see a couple of them tearing up as they went away, letting their defenses down with their lady alpha not viewing. Dubh looked upset, but not as much as the others.

Lachlan was the one to lead her back to her room. She stood inside a minute, looking around in a near daze. The bed was still unmade. He had his shoes scattered at different areas of the room. His cologne didn't have the top screwed on.

"We only had three months." She whispered. "Three months and we were back in Scotland." The tears that blurred her vision finally spilled over like a big, ugly waterfall. She started sniffling. "Three damnable months more and we w-we could have..." She broke. She fell to her knees, skirts fanning out to block the doorway. Her screech of despair could be heard for a mile. She wailed and more tears fell over her cheeks, traveling down to her chin where they dripped to her lap. She covered her face with her hands that still smelled like sweat and dirt and ancient paper skin. She started sobbing hard enough for her body to shake.

She hadn't cried since Gramps abandoned the pack.

She coughed around her dry throat and kept her eyes clenched tight. Her hands were soaked. Her nose felt red hot and she wished for all the world to just die.

Lachlan slowly approached and hugged her. She let him and started crying into his chest, whimpering and sniffling when she took a breath. Eventually she calmed herself and stayed there, letting herself be hugged. His skin was rough and real and reassuring. Lachlan had always been there. He'd never let her down. She had both her hands clasped up against him, and she opened her eyes to look at them.

"It was supposed tae b-be me." She whispered, her voice cracking.

"Nae child it-"

"I'm the human. I'm the one that is s-sposed tae be dying. If I didna get the bite w-we knew I would. He's a - he was a-a werewolf. He wasna supposed tae die. I-it was tae be me damn it, me!" She whimpered, more tears falling from her eyes as she looked up at Lachlan. "Why, why, why couldn't it have been m-me, Lachlan?!"

"I ... I dinnae ken, Lady Alpha." He said quietly. He took both her balled up fists and flattened them between his hands. He was big enough to make even a woman of Sidheag's stature look and feel tiny. "I'm a bit lost meself."

Sidheag nodded a bit. Well, at least he was trying to comfort her. Lachlan was the oldest of the pack, even older than Gramps, and had seen many werewolf deaths, so for him to say that it was a comfort. Then again she shouldn't be all that surprised. He and Niall had been friendly and Lachlan was a sentimental man.

She let him lead her to her feet, and also allowed him to undo the buttons on the back of her dress. She stared in the mirror. Her face was red and tear streaked, her hair was off kilter, and her husband wasn't unbuttoning her. He never would again.

"Lachlan?" She said quietly as he finished the buttons and stood back.

"Yes, Lady Alpha?" He looked drained, but immortality seemed to disguise most the wear.

"I need ye tae bring me the dress catalog from the front." She sat down at her desk, avoiding his eye. "I dinnae think I c-can make it that far."

Lachlan made a bit of an odd expression, but obeyed and brought the catalog.

"Thank you Lachlan...please, go get yourself some rest."

"What about you, Sidheag?"

Sidheag lit one of her cigars and watched it burn a second before sticking it in between her teeth. All she'd have is nightmares if she slept. Hell, it was taking a good deal of effort not to bloody gag at the images swimming through her mind right now. She wasn't going to lay in her bed and weep - actually she wasn't certain she could lay in her bed at all, considering whose side was going to be empty.

She tapped out the ash and let it rest in the trey as she flipped through the catalog with the order form ready beside her. She couldn't have Lachlan buttoning and un-buttoning her every evening. She was going to have to order dresses that did up the front. "I'll sleep at me desk."

Lachlan frowned deeply. "Lady Alpha-"

"I cannae have any sleep in _that_ bed, Lachlan." Her voice shivered as if she were in a blizzard. She put a harsh X on a dress, nearly snapping her quill in the process.

He understood quickly and nodded. "Of course ... goodnight, m'lady."

Her shoulders drooped. Smoke swirled up sedately from her cigar. "Sleep well, Lachlan, please. For the both of us."

Lachlan nodded, and then left the room.

Sidheag stayed up through the night and into the day, checking off dresses and smoking. She took too a decanter of cognac halfway through daylight and had it finished by sunset. By then she was drunk and tired enough to pass out at her desk, and slept from then to the next sunset.

The pack began planning the trip back two weeks later. Sidheag hadn't smiled since Niall had rotted away. What had been left of him, mostly bones, was waiting to go with them to Scotland and be buried in Kingair graveyard. Sidheag sent a letter to Gramps, and received a response the day before departing from India with a simple letter of condolence that wasn't more than two sentences. It was the only letter he ever responded too.

She left India without her husband in widow's black, carrying a single bag with her things and a bottle of his cologne, wishing for all the world that she'd been a wolf and fallen with him.


End file.
